Any Port
by MollyCarpenter
Summary: When you've got an enemy you can't beat, you go looking for someone who can.


Dean knew from the second she opened her eyes that it had worked-either that or she was the best actor he'd ever met, and since being a hunter meant being a professional con, he was pretty good at spotting bullshit.

"Dean!" she said, mocking and familiar, and looked down at her hands. "So-last I remember I was talking to Lucy. From the looks of things that didn't go so well."

"Yeah, no," Dean said. "You didn't make it. But we put him back because of the message you left us."

"Awesome," Gabriel said. "Didja like the rest of the tape? I mean, she was a real girl and everything."

"Uh, yeah, sure," Dean said. He had not watched the rest of the DVD, though he had a sneaking suspicion Sam had.

"Uh-huh," Gabriel said. It was weird as hell watching the Trickster's mannerisms on this middle-aged lady with glasses. "Your loss. But tell me, Deano, to what do I owe the pleasure? Somehow I don't think you went to this much trouble just to chat."

Dean shrugged, conceding the point. It had not been easy, getting together the stuff for the spell and finding someone with the psychic oomph to pull it off. Woulda been easier if they'd, oh, had someone around who could just _fly places_, but their only ally with that kind of mojo had gone and gotten himself _killed_ and Dean shut down the line of thought hard, but from the look on Gabriel's face not quite fast enough.

"You kinda look like someone ran over your dog," the Trickster said, and her voice for once wasn't teasing.

"Leviathan," Dean said.

The expression came and went fast, but Dean was pretty sure it had been fear and that really didn't make him feel any better. "What about 'em?"

"There's a prophecy that says you're the one who defeats them."

Gabriel sat back in her chair and covered her eyes with one hand. "Well, shit, that was what I was afraid you were gonna say," she muttered. "How many you got?"

Dean made a noise that didn't sound much like a laugh at all and said, "All of 'em, I think." Gabriel didn't laugh but Dean didn't know whether she didn't get the reference or just didn't think it was funny enough.

"Hooooo boy," she said, sounding winded. "The hell did that happen?"

"Cas," Dean began, and heard his voice break. He looked down at the table for a second and swallowed. "Cas cracked Purgatory for the souls and when he put them back, the Leviathans didn't go."

The Trickster gaped at him, literally gaped, and under other circumstances Dean could have felt triumphant but he just didn't have it in him. "_Castiel_ opened Purgatory?" she demanded after a second. "We're talking about the same Castiel here? Mister fashion disaster, stick-up-his-ass Castiel?"

"He thought he needed the juice," Dean said. And whatever Dean had thought about that choice at the time, Cas had frickin' well paid for it. "Someone was trying to get the Apocalypse going again." Jesus, he could actually _hear_ how tired he was.

"Well fuck," Gabriel said, which kind of summed it up in Dean's opinion. They sat in glum silence for a while, and then Gabriel sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean," she said, and there was a note of sincerity there that Dean was inclined to believe because it sounded like _Watching them tear at each other, I couldn't bear it_. "There is literally nothing I can do."

Dean met her eyes over the candle that burned in the center of the ritual circle. "What happened to archangels being Heaven's most terrifying weapons?" he demanded. He knew even as he said it that it wasn't fair, but the Trickster didn't get pissed.

"If I were really Gabriel, that'd be true, and I might even be able to help you," she said, not apologetic, just matter-of-fact. "But I'm not, and you know I'm not. I'm just...an impression. I can snap my fingers all I want, nothing's gonna happen." She did.

Nothing happened.

Dean didn't want to feel let down. He'd never really believed this would work, anyway, so why should he be disappointed to be proved right? "Thanks anyway," he said, calmly enough he thought.

"Look, Dean, don't sweat it too much. That prophecy, it wasn't really _prophecy_, if you know what I mean. I'm not exactly your only hope here."

"Yeah?" Dean said. "What is?"

Gabriel shrugged and said, "Same thing it always is, kiddo."

"Sure," Dean said, and reached out to snuff the candle.


End file.
